One task facing the reader is to sort out what is philosophically interesting and what is historically interesting. Simply to know that a certain historical individual asserted a certain proposition, or believed it, may be historically interesting, but is not philosophically interesting.
Knowing, however, that a certain individual asserted that proposition allows us to ask whether that proposition is consistent with the other propositions which he asserted, and may allow us to decide whether some of the competing interpretations of that individual’s philosophical system may be evaluated based on the knowledge that he asserted this proposition.
To know that Marx saw labor unions as an embryonic version of a revolutionary communist party is an empirical fact which may interest historians but which does not, by itself, interest philosophers.
On the other hand, knowing that Marx did hold such a view allows us to ask two questions: Is that view consistent with other central propositions in Marx’s philosophical system? Does Marx’s assertion of this proposition rule in, or rule out, some of the many competing interpretations of Marx’s system?
Using powerful but ambiguous vocabulary, Rorty goes on to assert that organized labor is an instance of specific “Christian virtues” - and not only an instance, but the “most inspiring” instance.
The use of the word ‘Christian’ raises an entire flock of new questions - the attempt to establish a clear definition of this word can fill hundreds of pages with debate - but we need not arrive at the complete and comprehensive definition of ‘Christian’ for our purposes, because Rorty is concerned, at least at this point in his text, only with “Christian virtues,” and not the entirety of what might fall under the heading of ‘Christian.’
This allows us to table the larger task of defining ‘Christian’ and busy ourselves instead with the somewhat smaller, but still complex, task of defining ‘Christian virtues.’ Without arriving at a final list of what those might be, we may proceed with the vague assumption that this list would include, e.g., altruism, honesty, pacifism, etc.
Rorty specifically asserts that “self-sacrifice” and “fraternal agape” are among the Christian virtues. Regarding the former, ‘self-sacrifice’ is perhaps an under-determining phrase, because a more complete expression would include some idea about the recipient of the sacrifice - for what does one sacrifice?
Even an avowed and explicit anti-Christian would endorse the notion of self-sacrifice, perhaps self-sacrifice in the service of opposing Christianity. So when Rorty lists “self-sacrifice” among the Christian virtues, he should refine the statement, either by stipulating self-sacrifice becomes virtuous self-sacrifice when made for certain purposes (e.g., self-sacrifice for achieving peace is virtuous, while self-sacrifice made for the purpose of bringing about war is not), or by stipulating that “self-sacrifice” is virtuous if and only if when it is part of a multi-virtue bundle including certain other enumerated virtues.
The phrase ‘fraternal agape’ poses additional interpretive challenges. What does Rorty mean by this phrase? As is already well-known, agape is one of several Greek words which are rendered into English as ‘love’ and stands in distinction to several other Greek words which are likewise translated.
The philology and hermeneutics of agape stretches over centuries and are complex. At the core of it lies a concept of self-sacrifice. But given the Rorty has already used the term ‘self-sacrifice’ in a separate phrase, we will extend charity by assuming that he has a separate and distinct referent for this word.
In general, exegesis of agape denotes not only self-sacrifice, but self-sacrifice for the sake of another: giving, at one’s own cost, for the benefit of person without expectation of any return or repayment.
What, then, does Rorty intend by adding the adjective ‘fraternal’ to agape? How does “fraternal agape” differ from non-fraternal agape?
One popular dictionary defines ‘fraternal’ as
of or denoting an organization or order for people, esp. men, that have common interests or beliefs.
The usual understanding of agape would not limit altruistic self-sacrifice as being for the sake of those who share “common interests or beliefs.” Rather, agape is a sense of sacrificing selflessly, and without any expectation of recompense. To sacrifice only for those with “common interests or beliefs” would imply and entail some sense of recompense, inasmuch as sacrificing for the sake of one’s fellow believers would be achieving a goal in the form of progress for the community of believers.
An argument - a persuasive and plausible argument - can be made for the proposition that there is an internal tension in the phrase “fraternal agape.” Under the usual understanding, agape is given without expectation of reciprocation, and therefore is not to be extended only to co-believers, but rather to all humans. Rorty writes:
The trade union movement, which Marx and Engels thought of as only a transition to the establishment of revolutionary political parties, has turned out to be the most inspiring embodiment of the Christian virtues of self-sacrifice and of fraternal agape in recorded history.
Four words attract attention in Rorty’s continuance of the passage: ‘most’ and ‘purest’ and ‘unselfish’ and ‘heroism.’ How do these terms apply to collective bargaining?
Can we argue that, “morally speaking,” organized labor is the “most encouraging” phenomenon of recent years? More than, e.g., German Lutherans and German Roman Catholics who crossed denominational lines to form a united Christian underground resistance against Hitler’s Nazi government? More than white Americans who willingly offered their lives to ensure that African-Americans would receive their constitutional voting rights?
Probably some efforts by labor leaders were unselfish, but were they the ‘most’ and ‘purest’ unselfish actions? While there were unselfish aspects to those actions, there were also elements of self-interest in better wages, better working conditions, and union dues paid to those who led such efforts.
While heroic, were the efforts of labor leaders the ‘most’ and ‘purest’ examples of heroism in recent decades? If herosim is defined, roughly, as “bravery,” we might ask about soldiers in battle, mothers in labor, and other examples, - and ask whether collective bargaining is the “most” and “purest” example of bravery. Rorty continues:
The rise of the trade unions, morally speaking, is the most encouraging development of modern times. It witnessed the purest and most unselfish heroism.
Rorty then proceeds to compare organized labor to (1) churches, (2) corporations, (3) governments, and (4) universities. He argues that labor unions have greater “moral stature” than these.
He makes this claim based on the assertion that union leaders had “an enormous amount to lose.” One tacit premise in his argument is that people in churches, corporations, governments, and universities had little or less to lose. The truth-value of his assertion will be determined in part by empirical facts: an accounting of who lost what.
One side of Rorty’s claim is, then, philosophically uninteresting, but historically interesting. We may make a tally of lives lost, and of other things lost, by various organizations, and decide who lost the most.
But another side of Rorty’s argument is philosophically interesting. Two claims in particular, both of which are unstated but implied, attract philosophical attention. First, he seems to be asserting the proposition that those who lose more gain “moral stature.” Second, he is operating with some definition of ‘church’ which needs to be made explicit.
Defining ‘church’ is perhap as thorny a task, or nearly so, as defining ‘Christian’ - but, under most plausible definitions, it would include millions of martyrs - from those killed under Roman rule prior to 313 A.D. to those currently being killed in places like North Korea.
There are, to be sure, competing definitions of ‘church’ - but even the most cynical of these would have to include the martyrs along with those who were part of a worldly power structure which called itself ‘church’ but lacked virtues which would normally qualify it to bear that name, or included the vices which would normally disqualify it.
Does Rorty really mean to say that the labor unions have a higher moral standing than the hundreds of thousands who went willingly to their own deaths simply so that others could experience altruism, pacifism, and communal harmony? He writes:
Though many trade unions have become corrupt, and many others have ossified, the moral stature of the unions towers above that of the churches and the corporations, the governments and the universities. The unions were founded by men and women who had an enormous amount to lose ‑ they risked losing the chance of work altogether, the chance to bring food home to their families. They took that risk for the sake of a better human future. We are all deeply in their debt. The organizations they founded are sanctified by their sacrifices.
If Rorty truly believes that an organization is “sanctified by” sacrifices, then, by his own calculus, churches would be more holy than collective bargaining. If he truly means to assert that the moral standing of a group is based on its willingness to seek “a better human future,” then the church, which introduced the notion that every human life is valuable and should be respected, should have such a moral stature beyond organized labor.
